proves the wisdom of those who
decided it was best to sell in the first place. The old people and
babies of course we give to entirely, _i. e._, as far as we have the
means. I should like a box full of baby-clothes and flannel for the
old rheumaticky women, whose garments are all worn out.

Heard Joe tell Flora, "Don't call me 'Joe' again; my name Mr.
Jenkins." I find they all have surnames, of one sort and another, a
wife taking her husband's.

_May 22._ When they go into the field to work, the women tie a bit of
string or some vine round their skirts just below the hips, to shorten
them, often raising them nearly to the knees; then they walk off with
their heavy hoes on their shoulders, as free, strong, and graceful as
possible. The prettiest sight is the corn-shelling on Mondays, when
the week's allowance, a peck a hand, is given out at the corn-house by
the driver. They all assemble with their baskets, which are shallow
and without handles, made by themselves of the palmetto and holding
from half a peck to a bushel. The corn is given out in the ear, and
they sit about or kneel on the ground, shelling it with cleared
corn-cobs. Here there are four enormous logs hollowed at one end,
which serve as mortars, at which two can stand with their rude
pestles, which they strike up and down alternately. It is very hard
work, but quicker than the hand process. After it is all shelled, the
driver puts a large hide on the ground and measures each one's portion
into his basket, and men, women, girls, and boys go off with the
weight on their heads. The corn-house is in a very pretty place, with
trees about it, and it is always a picturesque sight--especially when
the sand-flies are about, and the children light corn-cob fires to
keep them off. The corn is ground by hand by each negro in turn for
themselves; it is hard work and there are only three hand-mills on the
place, but it makes very sweet meal and grits. The negroes do not like
the taste of that which is ground by steam-mill at Beaufort; I suppose
the heat of the stones hurts it. The blacks at Hilton Head, who have
had our Indian-meal given them as rations, cannot eat the "red
flour."[41] They separate the coarse and fine parts after it is ground
by shaking the grits in their baskets; the finest they call corn-flour
and make hoe-cake of, but their usual food is the grits, the large
portion, boiled as hominy and eaten with clabber.

E. S. P. TO EDWARD ATKINSON

_Pine